


It's the most wonderful time of the year

by tinypigs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Fluff, Gen, Other, Pre-Slash, SO MUCH FLUFF, and Christmas costumes, and a happy Isaac, and a lot of bad stiles babble, and cheese, as he is tired of eating bad food, beware of bad sweaters, fun and joy, holidayfic, if you squint you can see some Scisaac, joooooyyyy, not so much as derek being sad, stiles stilinski - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypigs/pseuds/tinypigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like Derek needs it. But it would be nice to not have the smug face of Chef Boyardee as his company for the night. And maybe Isaac needs to get out.<br/>Beware of the fluff here. It may suffocate you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hap-Happiest Season of All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's just done with anything he has to microwave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late. Ha omigod so late. But I wanted to write something happy for Derek around Christmas! And what could be better than sharing food with people? Mind you the sharing doesn't actually happen in this. But you can just imagine it does.  
> Comments and criticism would be helpful! If you want to praise me (HAHAHA YEAH NO), that would be cool too xD  
> And as usual, thanks to Yani for all the help. She's my betaaaaaa.

Stouffers or Chef Boyardee…

Derek stared at the boxes in his hands. So, it had come to this.

In the past couple months, he had somehow found himself living at an apartment. Peter had forced him, saying how he couldn’t stand the abandoned train station. Derek grudgingly gave in. 

The pro to giving in to Peter's demands was that they now had a place with hot, running water. 

And the con? 

Derek had bought the cheapest place that he could find. And to Peter’s everlasting horror, their kitchen was about the size of a closet and only consisted of a sticky linoleum counter, rusty sink, and microwave. Derek didn’t really care. As long as he had a comfortable place to sleep and wash up, he was good. 

But, his indifference to his living conditions was now back to bite him in the ass.

Derek stared uneasily at the tiny letters screaming, "OVEN DIRECTIONS", on the back of the cartons in his hands. He was beginning to reconsider what exactly entailed a "good" place. Peter had been right.

Damn it. No one should be eating like this around Christmas. He and Laura weren’t the best cooks, but at Christmas, they always managed to cobble something up and eat together. He missed their dinners, small as they were. His resurrected uncle was his only company now. And after a nasty conversation about the state of their apartment, he had left on a mysterious trip. God, he loved his life.

“Are you really going to eat that?”

Derek's face immediately settled into a scowl and he turned around to glare at Stiles.

The lanky teenager raised his eyebrows back. His cheeks were red from the winter chill and he was clasping the handles to a plastic basket. He smelled like cookies and sweat, which, if he was being honest, wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

“So are you?” Stiles shifted his grip on his basket and flicked his eyes pointedly at the boxes.

Derek rolled his eyes and pushed the items back into the shelf.

“No.” He grumbled, half out of humiliation and half out of exhaustion. He’d been only eating microwaveables for the past couple months. Even a werewolf would get tired of mushy noodles and broccoli.

“Makes me wonder how you keep that rock solid.” Stiles made an expansive gesture at Derek’s torso. His near instant flush made it clear he regretted saying anything. Derek could hear the kid’s heartbeat jump with embarrassment.

This time, Derek raised his eyebrows. He turned away from Stiles and mournfully looked into his own cart. About half of it was filled with canned foods and several puny apples.

“What do you want, Stiles.” He deadpanned and began to push the cart toward the cashier line, knowing that the boy would follow him. The squeak of the kid’s sneakers followed him to the line.

 

“Well, seeing as it’s Christmas tomorrow, I’m just wondering as to where, you know, your Christmassy foods are. Unless werewolves don’t eat turkey. Or ham. But judging by Scott’s appetite, I don’t think so, ‘cause the guy ate an entire ham at Thanksgiving and so-“

“I can’t buy a turkey or ham because I have nothing to cook it with.” Derek cut Stiles’s babble off bluntly. He stopped the cart behind the shortest line in the store. And like all lines during the holiday season, it was still pretty damn long.

Stiles puffed his cheeks out and scratched the back of his head nervously. Following the boy’s twitchy gesture with his eyes, Derek noted that the kid’s hair was growing into quite a respectable bird’s nest. He sighed and turned back to look at the line. Fuck, it was still long.

“Then I was wondering…” Stiles’s heartbeat ratcheted up urgently. “If you wanted to eat with us. And by us, I mean Scott and his mom. Maybe my dad, but he’ll probably get off work late today. I don’t know I just-“ Stiles’ eyes darted rabbit-quick to Derek and then to a cardboard stand next to them.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Being gentle wasn’t exactly Derek’s forte, but he asked the question kindly enough. 

The teenager’s long-fingered hands were fiddling with the handles of his basket (which Derek realized was empty) and the strings to his hoodie. At Derek’s question, however, Stiles’s fidgety motions stopped suddenly.

“Ah. Well, I was supposed to get some stuff for this Christmas dinner with Scott and his mom. It’s this yearly thing and we always run out of ingredients, because Scott’s mom insists on making 50 billion gingerbread men and stuffing them in Scott’s mouth and mine. We don’t just eat cookies though. Like I said, turkey and ham. Because apparently to Scott’s mom, I’m a beanpole. And Scott just eats. But we usually have a lot of leftovers, and I saw you and your sad cart, so I thought I’d- uh. Invite you.” Stiles jerked his hands at Derek awkwardly.

Derek stared at him. Stiles’s pale cheeks reddened even more and he bent his messy head down.

“I’m being stupid, right?. You probably have alpha stuff to do and yeah. My bad. So I’ll just leave and get my things.”

Derek, on a sudden impulse, replied, “No. I’d like to come."

Stiles and Derek both tensed in their surprise.

"If it’s ok with Scott and his mom.” Derek added after a beat of stunned silence.

Stiles whipped his head up and looked at him with wide, brown eyes. Derek could hear the kid’s heartbeat jump again.

“What. Really?” Stiles's voice cracked, but he coughed harshly to cover it.

Derek hid his embarrassment by scratching at his stubble. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Oh. Geez. Ok then. It’s at 6 tomorrow night. Scott’s mom is already fine with it. She actually asked me to make sure to go and ask you, since Scott’s still a little meh about it.” Stiles's grin was wide and genuine.

“It’s at Scott’s. Or yours?” Derek mustered some dignity and forced himself to remove his hand from his chin.

“Scott’s house.” Stiles’s hoodie pocket vibrated angrily and the kid jumped. “Shit. I have to go. Scott’s mom told me to be back in 10.”

Derek resisted a smile that was threatening to emerge on his face.

“SO 6’O CLOCK TOMORROW. BE THERE OR BE SQUARE!” Stiles yelled at him as he scrambled to the exit.

Derek let a laugh go when the boy disappeared from sight.

“Hey. Are you going to move anytime soon, or can other people go ahead.” A voice snapped behind him.

A scowl quickly fell onto Derek’s face and he turned to look at an equally grumpy looking man.

“Move.” The man spat out.

Derek resisted the urge to give in to his more violent side and pushed the cart to the cashier.

At least he was going to eat real food. 

Thank God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles's babble was terrible. But I can't help but write him that way!  
> As usual, comments are always helpful! So long as they aren't saying things like, "Arr you [insert choice word] you suck." Unless you really have the urge to say that. Well.


	2. And to all a good night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott invites Isaac over. Tomfoolery ensues, involving terrible sacks and ham tacos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to say that this was un-betad. So I have some reservations about this. When my beta gets a look at it tomorrow, I'll re-upload the chapter! Until then, I guess enjoy.  
> Yes. I know. Cutting it close to midnight.

Isaac studied his shoes as he stood before Scott’s door. A couple hours ago, Scott had sent him a text telling him to get to his house by 6.

He tried to get Scott to tell him why, but all he got in reply was, “sorry. really busy. i’m helping my mom. see u at 6.”

And so he left his empty house to walk to Scott’s at around 5:30. Living alone had its benefits, he guessed.

He typed a quick, “im here,” to Scott and then pressed the doorbell. Isaac uneasily rolled his shoulders and looked around the area. He could hear feet stomping and Scott shushing Stiles noisily. And according to Isaac’s nose, Derek was somewhere in the house too.

“Stiles, dammit don’t speak so loudly he can hear us!” Scott hissed. Stiles huffed loudly.

The noise behind the door stopped and everything was quiet.

Then the door creaked open slowly. Isaac tried to peer around it, and was assaulted with something bright green and woolly. Isaac could hear Stiles’s muffled laughter as he was roughly stuffed into something he could only kindly call a sack with arm holes. Actually with multiple holes.

When his head popped out, Scott and Stiles were grinning at him, both wearing the ugliest sweaters he had ever seen in his life.

“Heeeey Isaac. Buddy! Merry Christmas.” Stiles snickered and leaned into Scott.

“Why is there a pie on your... sweater?” Isaac sneezed and batted at a bit of wool that clung to his nose.

Stiles looked mildly affronted and gestured at his torso. “This is no pie! It’s freaking Santa Claus. There’s his nose. And his beard.”

Scott snorted and pushed Stiles back in. He waved for Isaac to come in as well. Isaac tried to arrange the sweater so it didn’t fall down to his knees. He gave up when his hands got caught in the yarn more than once.

He closed the door behind himself and quickly followed Scott. He also took a surreptitious sniff of the air. It smelled like a whole bunch of good food and a pine tree had a lovechild. A mouthwatering lovechild...

“Derek, c’mon put it on.”

“No.”

Isaac stopped in Scott’s living room and stared at Derek. Derek swiveled his head around and grimaced. He, too, was wearing a sweater. 

“Aw you guys look so... so... cute!” Scott’s mom laughed from her seat on the couch. She was wearing a Santa hat.

Stiles forlornly looked at Derek and waved a pair of antlers at him. Scott sidled over to Isaac and smoothly slapped a rubber, red ball on Isaac’s nose.

“Scott what the-” Isaac fumbled at his nose and tried to yank it off. Scott swatted the back of his hand and Isaac glared at him.

“Dude, trust me. We’re all going to wear something. Even _Derek_.” Scott pointedly glanced at the grumpy man.

“For the last time- STILES.” Stiles had managed to cram the antlers on Derek’s head. They clung to his head lopsidedly.

Scott’s mom walked over, holding a camera. Isaac froze and cast a pleading look at Scott. The boy had already pulled on a fake Santa beard. Stiles had put some elf ears on.

“Pictures! Derek, stop trying to take the antlers off.” Melissa pushed and shoved, arranging everyone into a group. Isaac found himself uncomfortably close to Scott’s beard.

“Now, say cheese!” She pressed the button the camera.

When the ordeal was over, Derek grabbed Isaac’s arm. Isaac jumped and looked at the Alpha.

“The pictures won’t even come out the right way anyways. So don’t worry.” Derek muttered, looking away. He let go of Isaac and disappeared into the hallway.

Stiles brushed passed Isaac, whispering, “Yes, they wiiiill.” He followed Derek.

Scott slung an arm around Isaac and tugged him to the hallway. Isaac, with not much choice in the matter, dutifully let him.

“It’s going to be ok. The pictures are going to come out all right!” Scott smiled brightly at him and then conspiratorially told him, “My mom made a whole bunch of food and cookies for  us.”

Isaac nodded and held back a wry comment on how he could smell it. He and Scott walked into a small dining room, where Derek and Stiles were setting platters of food on a table. Melissa came out of the kitchen with a massive ham on a plate.

“Scott, Isaac, help get the food from the kitchen!” She ordered as she placed the ham on the center of the table.

For the next five minutes, a caravan loaded with food went to the table and back to kitchen. After one disaster (Stiles almost upended a bowl of mashed potatoes), everyone sat down to eat. Plates and cutlery clinked in a soothing jangle while a slow stream of conversation started.

Melissa confessed to making the awful sweaters as presents as a way to welcome Derek and Isaac. Stiles tried to convince Isaac to eat a rolled up slice of ham with mashed potatoes as filling (“It’s like a taco, Isaac!” “No, Stiles.”). And for the first time, Isaac saw Derek laugh (Scott ate the ham taco and ended up squirting mashed potatoes all over Stiles’s face).

Isaac’s stomach ached from laughing and eating. His mood didn’t even falter when Stiles’s dad came in from duty. Although he gave Derek a gruff hello and Isaac a weird fatherly pat, the sheriff had donned a Christmas sweater (a red one with a pattern of cows that were supposed to be reindeer) and joined the dinner. 

For once in a long while, everything was good. Derek had accepted Isaac again in his own way. Scott and Stiles seemed to want to be his friends. So yeah, there was all sorts of shit to be done when this day was over. Yes, the pack was in a dubious state. And maybe his stomach wouldn’t be in the best shape tomorrow. But right here, right now, Isaac wasn’t alone, and the world felt like a good place to be in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can taste the cheese. Can you? Because the cheesiness is suffocating me like an elephant on a lion. As always, comments would be cool and appreciated :D Thanks


End file.
